Going Downtown
by balladsinthebluegrass
Summary: A short one-shot for Richonne Smut Week.


Michonne reached over and covered his hand with hers. "Don't worry, okay? This is good. We found the equipment Eugene needs, after all."

"Yeah," Rick muttered. "Right before dark, and us miles away from home." He shifted uneasily in his place as they sat on the edge of the factory's loading dock. He cast a glance around. "I'd hoped we would be done and back by now."

Rick was stressed out all the time these days: over the safety of Alexandria, now that it had been rebuilt; Carl's health as he recovered from his wound; stockpiling enough supplies to meet all the community's needs. That concern was what brought them to their current location. Using an old phone book, Eugene had tracked down the location of a factory that contained the equipment he needed to start producing his own bullets. They had gotten to the place safely but had been hampered by the scores of walkers haunting the place. There had been too many for their little group to face them head-on; they had snuck around the factory, killing them stealthily, until the body of the last one hit the ground. Yet, such an approach had taken a lot of time, and darkness was already falling by the time the factory and parking lot was clear. They had all decided to bed down for the night, not wanting to risk a journey home in the dark. Rick and Michonne had volunteered to take the first shift keeping lookout.

"We still have plenty of ammo," she assured him. "We took care of all the walkers in the area. As long as we keep a sharp eye out, we'll get through this just fine." She paused thoughtfully for a moment before adding, "We've been through much worse than this before."

He squeezed her hand and gave her an appreciative look. "Yeah. We sure have." But he sighed. "Come morning, we'll have to carry all this shit out to the vans and load it up. Then drive back five miles. Anything could happen between now and then."

"You're letting yourself worry, but it won't help anything," she pointed out. She watched him fidget for a moment as he rubbed his hands down the thighs of his jeans to dry his palms. His recent state of mind had not been lost on her. She was concerned for him because he carried around the weight of the world on his shoulders. Of course, she helped him manage the daily affairs of the Safe Zone, and she was always there for him as a friend, but it didn't seem to be enough to relieve the strain. She could think of one other way she could help him, however. The thought had crossed her mind many times, but she had always brushed it away as inappropriate. Yet somehow, tonight, as they sat there keeping watch together, it seemed just the thing.

She lay down, stretching out her legs and resting her head in his lap. He jumped slightly, surprised by the movement, but he didn't pull away or tell her to stop. Instead, he simply asked, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to get comfortable," she replied innocently. "Some of us don't like having our ass go numb on a concrete loading dock."

He smiled down at her. "Well, are you comfortable down there, then?"

"Sure am." She smiled back.

"Glad I could be of service," he teased. Still, the light-hearted banter only seemed to go so far. A few moments later, the care-worn look returned to his face, and he kept darting anxious glances around them.

"You're always so stressed out, Rick," she observed quietly. "It's like you won't just let yourself be happy."

"There's too much that could go wrong to be happy," he replied morosely. "How can I not think about it? I'm turning the angles over in my mind all the time."

"It's good to be prepared," she agreed. "But it's okay to enjoy your life while you're living it."

"Why would I?" he asked, an edge of bitterness creeping into his voice. "What do I have to enjoy?"

She raised her eyebrows slightly. "A home. Your kids. Your friends." She shifted the position of her head in his lap slightly. "Isn't that enough?"

"No," he answered honestly. "It's not."

"So what do you want?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "It just feels like something's... missing."

She was quiet for a long moment before responding. "I think I know what it is."

He looked down at her, mildly surprised. "You do? Well, then... what?"

Turning her head in his lap, she faced towards his pelvis. She could feel the bump in his jeans where his dick was, just under her cheek. She turned her face a little more and pressed her lips in a kiss over that exact spot.

This time, Rick really did jump beneath her. "What are you doing?" he asked in a low, breathy tone. But he didn't stop her or pull away.

"Exactly what it looks like," she replied boldly. Sitting up, she reached for the zipper of his jeans. Surprise still blanketed his face, but he didn't move. She had his jeans unbuttoned and half-unzipped when she paused to say, "If you don't want this, tell me now." He stayed still and said nothing. His expression seemed uncertain, yet at the same time, desire was starting to burn in his eyes.

Michonne finished unzipping his jeans and reached in, taking hold of his cock with her warm hand. He groaned and bit his lip, but kept his eyes open. A few moments of her stroking had his dick feeling long and thick under her fingers. She pushed his fly open further, then gently pulled his erect manhood out through the opening in his boxers.

Immediately, she brought her lips down to his swollen pink head, lapping up the little drops of pre-cum she found there. He stifled a moan, not wanting to draw the attention of either any threat that might be nearby, nor their friends asleep in the next room. She grasped him by the shaft and twirled her tongue all around his head, as if he were a lollipop. Rick was larger than she had expected him to be, long and smooth and wonderfully thick. Her pussy clenched at just the idea of having this dick inside her. But she knocked away the thought. Tonight was about him, not her. She enveloped him with her thick lips, moving her head in a circle as she blew him. Slowly, inch by inch, she swallowed his cock, deep-throating him. His entire body shook. It had obviously been quite some time since he had enjoyed a woman's touch, because only a couple of minutes later, his shaft and head swelled slightly in her mouth, a sure sign of an impending release. She looked up to find him watching her intently, though he, vigilant as ever, flicked his eyes up every so often to make sure that no threat was drawing near. One of his hands caressed the back of her neck, while the other slid down the neckline of her shirt and grasped one of her breasts, massaging and softly pinching with his deft fingers. She drew her mouth down his length and sucked hard on his head, drawing the seed out of him with the vacuum she created with her lips. Simultaneously, she wrapped one soft hand around his shaft and pumped him. He groaned quietly, and she felt the warm liquid explosion in her mouth. She eagerly swallowed every drop, then licked by his dick and her lips clean.

Michonne sat up as Rick put himself away. "Feel better yet?" she asked flirtatiously.

"Almost," he murmured.

"What else do you need?"

"To spend tomorrow night in your bed," he whispered, pulling her close. "So I can return the favor." He pressed his lips against hers in a sweet and gentle kiss, but they broke apart when they heard the door to the next room opening behind them.

Daryl and Glenn ambled out, their weapons held casually at their sides. "Our turn to keep watch, right?" Glenn asked. Rick nodded shortly, and he and Michonne stood and walked to the other room together.

"Tomorrow night," she agreed as he lay down beside her and draped a comforting arm around her, pulling her close against his chest.


End file.
